


in search of the future

by dorbee



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gen, One Shot, and everyone weeps gently, it's short, stan calls a psychic who "just happens" to be his mother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 22:08:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19118647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorbee/pseuds/dorbee
Summary: You have to be pretty desperate to turn to a phone psychic, or your mother. Stan Pines is exactly that desperate, and he's turning to both.(A second person fic about Stan calling up his mom's psychic hotline.)





	in search of the future

In cold like this, your fingers stick to the buttons on the payphone. It would probably hurt less if hadn’t worn holes through your gloves.

 

Sometimes you’re surprised you still remember her number. 609-555-6331. You’ve done a good job at drinking away most of your memories, but you recognize that's a number you can't forget. It’s all you have left of home. 

 

“You’ve reached Caryn’s psychic hotline, state your name and reason for calling and I’ll connect you shortly.”

 

For a moment, you can’t help but smile. It kind of strains your face. Did your smile muscle atrophy? It  _ has _ been long enough.

 

She sounds the same.

 

You sound like a ghost.

 

“This is, uh, Stan,” you say, your voice coming out as a halfway cough. “I’m calling to… to get some stuff off my chest.”

 

You wait. And wait. And wait a little longer. You know from back home that this isn’t normal—usually she wouldn’t even listen to the message before she picked right up. She might be avoiding Dad. She might be in shock. Or—and this possibility feels very real—she might not intend to pick up at all.

 

When the line clicks back to life, you feel the weight of an elephant off your shoulders.

 

“Hello, this is Caryn.” She sounds so familiar. And tired. And nervous.

 

“Hey Ma,” you say, the words coming instinctively. You pause. “Ma’am.”

 

The breath she takes in is tense and shaking. You can practically hear her twisting the telephone cord around her finger. 

 

“So, you said you had something to get off your chest?”

 

“Yeah, yeah I did.”

 

“Alright, well,” she pauses. This much quiet is unusual for her. “Get talkin’.”

 

You gaze out at the road, and your car parked nearby. The windows are starting to frost over. There’s not a soul in sight.

 

“I’m havin’ a rough time,” you finally say, shoving your free hand in your pocket and letting your head drop to your chest. “I’ve been trying real hard, y’know, to make it. To show that I’m worth something. But I’m proving the opposite.”

 

“The opposite?”

 

“Oh, that I was born a screw-up and I’ll die a screw-up,” you say. There’s silence on her end. “Sorry, was that to harsh?”

 

She clears her throat. “No, no, just a bit, uh, surprising is all,” she says. “Now, I’m sensing… I’m sensing that you’ve been in the pursuit of money more than happiness, is this true?”

 

You chuckle (an alien noise these days.) “Well, money  _ is _ happiness when I’ve got this little of it.” You pause. “And when it’s sort of… my whole reason for being out here.”

 

“You’re trying to prove yourself to someone, someone specific, someone—”

 

“Yeah, my family—”

 

“—your father—”

 

“My  _ family _ .”

 

She’s quiet for a moment before letting out a small sigh. You hear the cushions of her seat shift. 

 

“I know I hurt them. I wanna make things right,” you say, scratching the back of your head. “I wanna pay back what I cost them.”

 

“…I’m getting the sense you won’t be able to do that.”

 

“Y’know, it’s funny, I’ve been getting that sense too,” you say. “What is it? Is it the seventh failed business venture? Is it that I’m living out of my car? Is it that I'm banned from half the states of the union? What exactly is it that’s giving me the sense I’m never gonna prove myself?”

 

“Keep telling me everything and I won’t have to do my job.”

 

“Oh, sorry.”

 

“No, you—you don’t have to apologize.”

 

You’re both quiet.

 

“For anything.”

 

“Well, that’s a nice sentiment,” you say. “I can add you to the short list of folks who don’t hate me. Your name and a whole bunch of blank space.”

 

She’s quiet, but this time, her silence has a purpose to it—you can feel it through the phone. She’s silent because she’s thinking, scheming even. It’s a familiar sound, or lack thereof. It makes you smile.

 

“You know what, I’m sensing something big,” she says. “I’m seeing in your future, I’m seeing—I’m seeing a family.”

 

You furrow your brow. “Not anytime soon, right? Because I can’t raise a kid in the back of a sedan.”

 

“No, no, I promise when this happens you’re gonna be ready for it. And it might not even be kids, or your kids, but it’s gonna be a  _ family _ . It’s gonna be people who  _ treat _ you like family.”

 

“Well, I already have a family.”

 

“But they don’t have you, do they Stan?” she says. “You’re holding on, but they left years ago.”

 

Tears sting your eyes. “You think so?”

 

“Oh, I know so.”

 

You nod. “Well, that’s, that’s great. What am I gonna do now?” Your hands worry the zipper of your jacket as you speak. “Take a long walk off a short pier? Give in to the void?”

 

“No!” she says, her voice as firm as it’s ever been. “Didn’t you hear what I said? You’re gonna find a family that won't let you go, ever. You’re gonna find people who care about you,  _ really  _ care.”

 

You sniffle.

 

“You’re gonna find something worth living for.”

 

Again, you nod. “Well, if you know so, I guess I’m not pulling the trigger tonight, right?”

 

“ _ Oh no you are not _ .” 

 

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry, I’m kidding ya.” You pause. “Y’know, I… I think that’s all I’ve gotta say.”

 

“You sure?”

 

“I’m sure.”

 

“Well… ah, screw it,” she says. “This one’s on the house.”

 

“Wait, you mean—”

 

“No arguing. I’m calling it a friends and family discount. First time I’ve ever used it. Consider it an honor.”

 

It takes every fiber of your being not to fight it, but in the end you realize you couldn’t have paid her anyway. 

 

“Well, uh… thanks so much,” you say.

 

“You’re welcome,” she says. “And one last thing, before you leave.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

Silence. When she speaks, her voice is choked and quiet.

 

“I love you, Stanley.”

 

Silence. When you speak, your voice is choked and quiet.

 

“Love you too, Ma.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed my first of (hopefully) several Gravity Falls fic! Comments, kudos, and bookmarks are always greatly appreciated.


End file.
